


The Fool and The Moron

by Waterlemon



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Arthur "Big Dick" Morgan, Arthur Just Wants Peace and Quiet, Bathtub Sex, But he loves John too much to tell him to fuck off, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, John "Tight Ass" Marston, John likes to sit in Arthur's lap, Lady Assist but it's John, M/M, Rimming, fuck it, porn with vague plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28899963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waterlemon/pseuds/Waterlemon
Summary: Arthur's back aches from carrying the gang and working all day to put a few dollars in the pot.He only wants a peaceful few hours to himself.John wants to be included in those few hours.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	The Fool and The Moron

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one-shot of our beloved outlaws being fluffy in the first half, then smutty in the rest. There is no specific timeline for this. I wrote this for fun.  
> I think that's about it, so yeah.  
> Enjoy!

A peaceful nap was all Arthur needed after a long day of stripping rich folk off of their valuables, slaughtering guards for doing their jobs of protecting said rich folk, and deceiving a deputy to get Micah out of jail. As much as Arthur wanted to see that coward swing, he knew Dutch wouldn’t be too happy if such thing happened. 

With that said and done, Arthur decided he did deserve a damn nap and it was the perfect time to take one. The sun hung low in the clouded sky, hiding behind tree-covered mountains, coloring Arthur’s part of the world a warm orange and purple hue. 

Arthur was slumped against a large boulder situated a little out of the gang’s hideout, far enough for him to hear nothing other than birds chirping and critters instead of nagging, and self-pity stories from Uncle or Pearson. Near Arthur’s stretched out and slightly crossed legs sat his beloved worn and scratched up hat, finding no use in wearing it during the sunset. His hands rested low on his abdomen, head hung down, eyes closed, and his chest rising and falling in a slow, consistent rhythm as he quietly snored away into dreamland. 

The much needed nap didn’t last long when his ears picked up the sound of footsteps approaching, getting louder and louder before an unexpected but familiar weight was dropped on his lap. 

Arthur woke up with a start, hand instinctively shooting up to his holster despite killing not being the first thing that came to mind, especially after acknowledging the perpetrator. 

“Didn’t mean to startle ya’, old timer.”

“...I don’t think you know what startlin’ someone means, Marston.” Arthur’s low and throaty voice served as evidence of exhaustion and the urge to commit a crime against John was strong after his nap was disturbed. 

The expected witty comeback from John never came, instead he just mumbled something under his breath and leaned more of his weight against Arthur’s solid chest, face hidden in the crook of his exposed, warm neck. It was typical for John to turn into, what Arthur liked to refer to it as...a kitten, whenever something bothered him - more so after their strained friendship somehow blossomed into a romantic relationship, and Arthur loved that. John was usually shy when it came to public affection, not that they could display that at any time they wanted, so Arthur always made sure to cherish those moments where they got to be as close as they currently were. 

With a deep, tired groan, Arthur moved his arms to wrap them securely around John’s middle, pulling him closer and resting his chin on John’s head. Arthur disregarded the stringy and annoying dark loose strands tickling his nose; the same hair Arthur liked to grip between his fingers during their intimate times late at night - or during a lazy day when they could escape to an abandoned cabin for a few hours. 

“Dutch is actin’ strange...to me at least,” Arthur heard the raspy voice he’d grown too familiar with, this time laced with a deep gloom that John didn’t even attempt to conceal. It was always Dutch. 

“Dutch actin’ strange ain’t news, Johnny.” Arthur snorted, hand lazily rubbing up and down John’s now relaxed back, the brown leather of his vest was smooth under the hardened and rough skin of his palm. John gave a shiver in return. 

“I know I did wrong by leavin’ and I told that to him  _ and _ Hosea. He forgave me and said he’d left it all behind yet now he’s starting to look at me like I’m- like he’s doubting me.” John’s warm breath brushed against Arthur’s neck as he spoke, his distressed voice slightly muffled. Arthur felt the scruffy material of his blue shirt wrinkle under John’s dirt-stained fingers when they curled onto it at the shoulders. 

“There’s only one person who keeps plantin’ those shit ideas into Dutch’s head...” 

John looked up, brows slightly furrowed as he worked his brain hard for the answer. Arthur always thought that expression was adorable on John. Adorable was the word that would be the cause of Arthur’s nut sack getting crushed if he directed it to John out loud. 

“Evelyn Miller?” 

Arthur let out a hearty chuckle, his chest vibrating under John’s weight. 

John smiled. 

“That and Micah.” Arthur replied with a sigh, the disgust clear as day when the latter’s name came out of his mouth. “But...don’t worry about Dutch. It’s probably all in yer head, Golden Boy.” That was the reminder John blindly sought for and Arthur knew it just by how most of the worry left those dark hazel eyes that Arthur couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact color of. Arthur’s hand slid up until his fingers dipped into John’s soft hair which he quickly found out was in the early stages of becoming greasy. 

Arthur’s touch brought John closer and their scarred noses bumped against one another. 

“We all know you’re the favorite, Morgan.” John disclosed in a breathy whisper, his chapped lips brushing against Arthur’s own. 

Instead of using words to tell John to shut up, Arthur closed the tiny gap between them and stole John’s breath away. Dry lips quickly moistened and brought back their natural pale pink color as their greedy wet tongues swiped against them before the wet muscles lazily danced and fought one another. The kiss was passionate, sharing their love for each other through saliva and low moans. 

They only broke the kiss when breathing became difficult minutes after, though they stayed close, sharing their air in each other’s arms. 

A match flared and Arthur lit up a cigarette to pass between John and himself. 




Arthur entered through the wooden doors of the dingy hotel in Valentine, leaving behind a trail of muddy bootprints as he went up to the clerk, muttering a throaty “Howdy,” before sliding twenty-five cents across the counter. 

“I’d uh...like to take a bath, please.” 

“Of course, mister. It’s right that way.” The clerk’s voice held cheerfulness that Arthur envied and found annoying at the same time.

“Thanks, partner.” Arthur tipped his hat with mud-covered fingers before heading over to the back where the filled bath was. Once the door was closed, he began pulling off his clothes, heavy with shit, mud, and a bit of blood that both belonged to him and the people he drunkenly fought at the saloon. Thankfully, It wasn’t anything serious enough to have the sheriff involved. 

He dunked a foot into the hot bath and sighed in relief. His blood rushed through him as he anticipated the idea of finally relaxing under the warm soapy water. It has only been two hours since he’s successfully robbed a stagecoach with John and Uncle. John wanted to prove something to Dutch. And Uncle? It was the fool’s idea and he insisted on coming along. Uncle also threatened to ruin the robbery, saying he’d get to the spot first and tell the damn guards about the robbery if Arthur didn’t involve him. Might as well make use of that lazy lovable bastard. 

Arthur leaned against one side of the tub, submerged in water from the chest down. He closed his eyes and felt his stiff muscles beginning to loosen up. Only one thing left before he could finally get his, hopefully uninterrupted, peace and quiet, and that was to wait for the usual girl to come in and do the cleaning for him.

Three expected knocks sounded through the steamy room.

“Would you like me to take over, handsome?” 

Only the voice was rather...deep to be that of a female’s. Arthur’s lips stretched into a lazy grin. 

“I could use a hand.” The blond responded in his low gravelly voice, feeling his cock twitch to life under the bubbles.

John slipped into the room rather hastily; preferring not to get spotted by anyone, Arthur assumed, even though the younger man radiated eagerness and mischief. 

Arthur closed his eyes back up and listened to John walking closer until he sat near the tub. He felt the smaller hand stroke along his arm that was resting on the rim of the tub. 

“Lookin’ a bit dirty there, cowboy.” Of course, there was a suggestive tone behind John’s rough, damaged voice. 

“S’why you’re here, ain’t ya?” Arthur grunted. The hand on his arm slowly traveled further up until it was on his chest, the fingers now playing with the damp hairs decorating the well-defined muscles. 

“‘Course...anything for my man.” A grin was plastered on John’s face and Arthur knew that, just by the way he spoke. With a kiss upon Arthur’s stubbled cheek, John began scrubbing the mud off him with the soap, the dirt particulars collecting at the bottom of the tub. Times like these were Arthur’s favorite; the gentle touch of John’s otherwise not too soft looking hands felt heavenly. Not only did he have the hot water to release the tension from his muscles but he also had John pretty hands to massage him into a pile of goo while occasionally stroking his heavy cock that rested against his stomach. 

Arthur’s heavy eyelids opened like a slat on blinds, revealing his piercing blue irises. He lifted his head off the headrest to look at John once he was all cleaned. He gave John lopsided smile. 

“Thank you, darlin’.” Arthur put his fingers under John’s chin and brought his face closer until their mouths pressed together in a long and sweet kiss, making sure to tease John’s lips with flick of his tongue before pulling away. 

“This...costs more than j-just a kiss.” John’s voice wavered and his eyes were glazed over. Arthur knew it was the affects of the kiss. It gave him a sense of pride knowing he had the power of making John so weak, and to rob him of his confidence from just a kiss. 

“Strip and get in here then.” Arthur’s thick voice was just above a whisper and held so much authority, the tone that’s so pleasantly familiar in John’s ears. The older outlaw noticed the shiver that shot through John who then stood up on shaky legs to do as Arthur said. Once the clothes were out of the way, the dangerous blue eyes raked up and down John’s lean body like a hungry predator eyeing his long-awaited meal. 

“Shit, Arthur...” John squirmed under Arthur’s lustful gaze, his slim legs crossed at the ankles and his hands closed into tight fists as he tried to compose himself, to stop his pecker from damn near exploding before the real fun could even start. Arthur knew John could do that. He’d made John cum plenty of times before without putting a single finger on his nether regions, using only his voice, and sometimes, just light touches on his heated skin. 

Arthur’s hand reached out and gently caressed the soft skin of John’s thigh, feeling the barely existent muscles trembling under his wet fingers. 

“Okay?” Arthur asked, voice soft and gentle, wanting the reassurance of knowing his lover was fine.

John nodded in response and stepped into the bathtub but just as he was about to sit on Arthur’s lap, the man stopped him by giving his leg a firm squeeze. Arthur leaned in and peppered the back of John’s thigh and knee with warm audible kisses, his light beard scraping the tender skin that sent another wave of pleasure up John’s spine. 

John looked back at Arthur with an impatient frown. 

“What’s the holdup, Morgan?” 

“Kneel for me, darlin’.” Arthur spoke breathlessly, lips still touching the warm flesh. He caught the excitement flicker in John’s eager eyes; those pretty eyes that looked like they belonged to a fox. 

And John kneeled, his movements disturbing the water and causing it to slosh around as he settled as comfortably as he could, placing his hands on the opposite end of the tub. Arthur’s breath hitched at the sight; the soapy water touched just under the swell of John’s soft round ass, and his back muscles flexed as he gripped the edge of the tub. 

“I should wash first-“

“No.” Arthur’s voice was firm. He couldn’t give two shits if John was soaked in sweat from running around the whole day under their unforgiving sun. No, that made it even better to taste all of him.

Arthur leaned close, taking each plump cheek in his hands. He couldn’t resist playing with them whether they were alone or at camp. Arthur would always give John playful pats on his ass around camp just to see his face turn a pretty shade of red as it currently was. 

Arthur’s warm breath ghosted over the pale skin and felt it developing goosebumps that prickled his lips with each kiss he planted, accompanied by John’s quivery sighs. John’s ass was probably the palest part of his body but as for it being the least scarred? there wasn’t anything permanent, just Arthur’s teeth marks and a few love bites here and there. 

“Arthur, someone might hear-“ Sharp teeth interrupted John’s nervous voice by sinking into the soft flesh of his behind, leaving yet another bruise on him. A yelp emitted from John’s mouth and he immediately tried muffling it with his hand. 

Disregarding John’s worries, Arthur used his thumbs to pull the cheeks apart, exposing the fluttering hole to his starving blue eyes. He squished his nose against the crack and breathed in the sweet, musky scent before dragging his wet tongue widely over the warm hole as if it was the most delicious food he’s had in his life. His growl was that of a wild animal’s, like a dog tasting blood for the first time, and yearning for more. John nearly doubled over, his grip on the tub the only thing keeping his trembling legs from slipping. The hot, torturous tongue licked and tickled over John’s hole again. John’s hand did a poor job at stifling the lewd, scratchy moans escaping his mouth. 

“Please, Arthur, shit!” John’s pathetic attempts of swallowing back his sobs were utterly useless after Arthur pushed his tongue past the ring of muscles, opening him up and licking into him like it was his last meal. The soft sounds from droplets of precum hitting the disturbed water was drowned by John’s desperate gasps and Arthur’s ravenous grunts. The large hands roughly squeezed the parted cheeks and Arthur sucked on the tender muscle, feeling it pulsate against his greedy tongue. 

Arthur moved his face away from John’s thoroughly licked out hole after he satisfied most of his hunger, also because of how John’s groans were getting higher in pitch, signaling the approach of his release. Arthur will not have that. John was shaking like a cat under heavy rain and Arthur wondered if he also felt the bits of rocks at the bottom of the tub dig into his knees that would no doubt leave an uncomfortable soreness on the skin later on. 

The string of saliva still connecting Arthur’s mouth to John’s most vulnerable spot finally snapped in half. Arthur wasted no time pushing a thick finger past the wet, loose hole, receiving a strained gasp from John. His naked back was slightly arched, his dirty dark hair fell forward over his shoulders, covering his flushed face. 

“The best bathmaid in this establishment, Johnny.” Arthur said, adding a second finger in to rub along John’s slick walls. He smiled when John shot him a playful glare. 

“I’m supposed to be the one takin’ care o’ ya, big guy...” John sounded breathless, hips subtly grinding back against Arthur’s fingers. 

“You are.” 

“No- i mean...” John sighed. “I wanna ride you, Arthur.” He muttered, squeezing around the digits. 

Arthur’s fingers then reluctantly abandoned John’s hole and he settled back against the tub. Fingering John was the initial and only idea, but Arthur couldn’t say no to such a wonderful offer. It was already a rare thing for them to have the freedom of taking their time during sex. Rare but not impossible. Arthur was quite the wanderer and he knew exactly where to take John during times where they both craved to be tangled up together for more than an hour and being as loud as they wanted. 

“You’re gonna flood the room.” 

“To hell with that.” John had clearly grown more impatient, voice raspier than usual. He turned and straddled Arthur’s muscular thighs. The space was tight but that wasn’t going to stop John from getting what he wanted. Water rushed to the edge and poured onto the tiles, creeping towards John’s pile of clothes. That’s a problem for later. 

“Settle, boy.” Arthur’s hands wandered from John’s chest and down to his hips, touching every part of his skin before moving them up and back down again, essentially petting him in order to calm his nerves. It worked like a charm. John melted against him, muscles shuddering under his gentle caress. Arthur felt warm kisses being pressed across his damp neck and shoulder. 

“There you go...” Arthur cooed and slid a hand down, dipping it under water to reach John’s ass, giving it a firm squeeze. The feeling of Arthur’s dick nudging it was becoming quite frustrating for both men. 

With a cocky grin, John reached down to position the cock against his hole and in one swift move, he was seated snugly in Arthur’s strong lap, ass stretched to the limits, taking all he could of Arthur’s length from the position they’re in. Arthur’s size was something that left John feeling like he was being split in half despite the countless times they’ve laid together. 

John was struggling to breathe, his hands had Arthur’s shoulders in a death grip as he sat still, adjusting to the familiar thick meat stretching his insides. Arthur hissed at the sudden tightness around him and watched John’s expression. Although the endless teasing towards his scarred face, Arthur always thought John was pretty. He was perfect. Scar or no scar. 

John’s sharp eyebrows were furrowed, jaw slacked and his eyes filled with pleasure, gazing right into Arthur’s, reflecting the emotion. Though a hint of worry flickered in Arthur’s eyes. Sure, Arthur fucked him rough a lot with only saliva as their lubricant but he always made sure John was okay. He remembered John telling him that he enjoyed the burning sensation whenever Arthur went in hard and raw as much as he enjoyed their slow-paced vanilla sex. Thinking about that only made Arthur’s cock throb inside John. Arthur was sure John felt it as a pathetic moan broke out of those split lips of his. 

“Arthur...” John breathed into Arthur’s slightly opened mouth. Their noses touched and Arthur could practically see John’s soul through his eyes. He saw pain blended with pleasure. A combination Arthur recognized very well in his lover. With a grip on John’s hips, Arthur lifted him slightly before thrusting up and lowered John at the same time. Sharp gasps filled the air. More water spilled over. Arthur did it again. And again. And again. 

John’s trimmed nails pricked the thick skin of Arthur’s shoulders, a series of low curses and whimpers punched out of him with each thrust. 

“Ain’t doin’ much ridin’ there, darlin’.” Arthur gave a deep, throaty chuckle.

“You ain’t givin’ me the chance, Morgan!” John’s scratchy voice was strained, his chest rising and falling in a rapid pace as his breath came in short. 

“Christ, does this feel good.” John thickly swallowed down the loud moans that threatened to rip out of his throat. 

“I’ll keep goin’ if-“

“No, I got it.” John insisted and Arthur loosened his hold. He used his knees to lift himself up. The drag of Arthur’s cock sliding out brought a blissful expression on his face - both men’s faces. A long moan drew out of John before he slammed himself back down. The action shot waves of pleasure through Arthur’s bloodstream, his toes curling and fingers gripped the heated flesh on John’s slim hips that would surely bruise for a few days. 

The water level decreased and was now up till their waists after having spilled over some more as John kept bouncing on Arthur’s lap, desperately chasing release. Loud moans mixed with low grunts, the sound of water splashing, and the deep squeaks of limbs moving against porcelain was all that could be heard in the foggy room. Possibly outside it too. For some reason, the idea of people hearing only further excited Arthur. As long as folk didn’t hear two masculine voices at the same time, they’d never know. 

A thick groan left Arthur and John fucked himself harder on his penis, determined to have his good spot jabbed each time, only pausing to steal a few kisses. The sounds pouring out of John were equivalent to distorted melodies. A scratchy record of Arthur’s favorite song that brought a yearning desire upon him. A desire to keep going. John was his muse. Despite John being the one constantly looking up to Arthur, seeking praises and doing his best to make him proud. 

John slapped a wet hand over his mouth like he’d just become aware of the embarrassing noises coming out of him but his movements didn’t falter. Arthur knew it felt too good to slow down. John’s groans were turning into whines and mewls. Sounds John would never admit he made. Arthur only needed to hear that to know he was close. 

“Bein’ such a good boy, Johnny.” 

A tremor shot through John’s body along with a short yell. His muscles stiffened and hips stuttered, ass clenched tightly around Arthur. So tight it almost hurt. His spurting filth like white ink dissolving in the water. He went limp in Arthur’s arms, only jolting from the aftershocks of his intense climax, heated skin slick with water and sweat. 

Arthur took over from there, unable to prolong the twisting heat in his abdomen. He held the back of John’s thighs and lifted his rear from his lap, slightly bending a leg for leverage. John made a choked out sound and pressed his face into Arthur’s neck, trembling and oversensitive. Probably mentally preparing himself for the brutal fucking that was about to come.

Arthur’s hips jerked up, plunging his rock-hard cock into John with little to no mercy. John, like a rag-doll in his lap, limply jounced with every hard thrust the older man gave. Arthur’s legs flexed as well as his arms, the veins in his neck and forehead throbbing as much as his pecker was. 

With John’s hot breath in his ear, whimpering like a bitch in heat, Arthur’s muscles solidified with all of his cock buried deep in John. His thick load filled John and a sharp cry tore out of his throat. 

Arthur’s heart raced faster than his horse would escaping the law. His breath was short and rapid. The only sounds he heard was his fast pulse as his head spun, overtaken by pleasure. Arthur lazily kept grinding John’s hips down to ride out his orgasm. 

After Arthur’s vision cleared up, his arms wrapped around John’s waist and pulled him impossibly closer. He planted a loving kiss on John’s chin. John gave him a lopsided smile. His face was all red and his hair was greasier than when he first came in. Ain’t no cleaning that with the murky water they’re in. 

“What you lookin’ at?” Arthur asked with gravelly chuckle. He couldn’t help it. John looked completely drained and fucked out.

There was no answer. Instead, John kissed him just like he did for the first time a while back; drunk behind some saloon after having had enough of seeing a working girl clinging to Arthur all night. This time, there was no alcohol to encourage him into making such a bold move but the shyness that came afterwards along with a challenging glint in those eyes were as clear as the waters of the hot springs up in the Grizzlies. Despite how much Arthur tried to convince John that he was a much bigger fool than he thought for having those feelings for him, and to simply go love someone else, John only agreed on the part that he was a fool. A dumb fool in love with a big moron. 

Arthur caressed the longer scar on John’s cheek. He leaned in and kissed it before slipping his cock out of John, both men let out quiet sighs at the loss. They stood up with John needing a bit of help steading himself on noodle legs. Arthur grimaced at how dirty the water in the tub was. 

“Shit! My clothes are soaked!” John exclaimed in despair, seeing the sad flop of wet clothes on the equally wet floor. 

Arthur snorted. “Warned ya.” He muttered and earned an expected smack on the arm from John.

  



End file.
